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Smack!
A rather crisp slap rang out as Chen Weizhe unceremoniously smacked Zuo Tinggang's left arm. Zuo Tinggang had been lost in visions of the apocalypse, his face almost contorted.
The slap made Zuo Tinggang jolt, as though waking from a nightmare, and his unfocused eyes quickly sharpened.
Chen Weizhe grinned, his tone mischievous and teasing. "What's wrong? Scared stupid? Look at that blank face of yours. You've been beside yourself for minutes now. Your soul's practically flown beyond the heavens, buddy!"
Coming back to his senses, Zuo Tinggang instinctively wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, sounding a little weary. "A little... In that instant, I thought about how more than half the fellow practitioners and legacies of the soul master world might vanish without a trace. That helplessness was honestly a bit more than I could bear."
As a Titled Douluo, he normally would not have lost his composure like this, but his defenses had just crumbled.
Chen Weizhe clicked his tongue and patted his shoulder. "Look at you, fretting away. You've got a prince's lot, but you're shouldering an emperor's worries. Come on, look on the bright side. Shouldn't you be thanking the Chen Clan, too?"
He gestured downward with his chin. "If those old foxes of the Chen Clan hadn't uncovered the workings of that evil formation, whether by stumbling onto them or through masterful planning, our entire soul master world-including the two of us-would probably still be in the dark like a bunch of idiots. We might even be getting kept as blood bags!"
Zuo Tinggang let out a long breath and steadied himself. "Old Chen, you really do keep a level head. Aren't you panicking at all?"